


Cheer, It's Christmas!

by Arel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Comfort Food, Food, Implied Relationships, M/M, Romanian food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arel/pseuds/Arel
Summary: It is Christmas, even for the government, so our dear Lestrade is less forgotten than he thought.A Christmas Fic by Someone-not-exactly-liking-the-holiday





	

**Cheer, It's Christmas!**

or

A Christmas Fic by ~~Someone-not-exactly-liking-the-holiday~~ Arel

 

_Soundtrack: Blake Sheldon & Michael Bublé – Cheer, It's Christmas! _

 

Whenever Greg looked out the window, all he saw was grey, grey and grey – or at least it seemed to him as if the whole world was trenched in grey.

It was not the first time he noticed it, but it mystified him again every year how thunderstruck he was in December when he realized, that there would be not all that much snow, or even found himself wishing there would be no snow because the city erupted in chaos and anarchy whenever the temperature hit below zero degrees, or a lovely little snowflake showed its face in the city of London.

Maybe it was because of this that Christmas had never felt like Christmas after he had moved south, even when there had still been Hannah in the picture.

 

Greg loved grey, if he was to be honest with himself. It was a bit of an acquired taste but even he would never wear the colour if he could help it; he liked the colour a lot, mostly because it emphasized everything in its surrounding, made everyone shine and glitter on comparison.

Not always, but often enough to remind the greying detective inspector how truly colourful London is in its heart.

Normally he relished in the greys of the city but in the last two weeks of December, he had found no joy in it, as he found himself longing for traffic chaos, anarchy, and the apocalypse of a full-blown snowstorm for Christmas Eve – much to the horror of everybody around whom he ever dared to mention it aloud.

Not only would it bring Christmas spirit into the city adding to all the lights, but it also would it prevent Sherlock from ever leaving his name and harassing Lestrade endlessly at Scotland Yard, as he never stepped one food out of his house in the weather.

 

Lestrade paused for a moment over the papers and sneaked a glance to the window into the night.

It had been pretty quiet so far, but his experience told him, that Christmas holidays were always some of the most awful days and nights of the year in terms of suicides and homicides – apparently nothing made people lose control more than when societies dictate on spending time and money and niceties on each other in a tight space once a year while pretending to be happy.

A flicker of light caught Greg’s eye and startled him out of his musings.

“Evening Lestrade”, came the quiet and smiling greeting from DI Charring, one of the recurring volunteers at any holidays, his wife was a nurse and not home anyway, so they knew each other quite well by now.

Just as Greg was about to return the greeting, someone knocked at the entrance door to the office, making the two man turn around - and stare in his hands the delivery guy (judging from his uniform and the big lettered name of a restaurant by the appearance of it and the wrapped present in his hand) who smiled happily.

 

“Delivery for DI Gregory Lestrade,” he asked to the astonished faces of the department and Greg almost choked on his tea.

 

“Yes, that's me”, he finally managed to get out and had the package promptly put on his desk.

“Have a nice evening!” Greg heard and muttered something of the same nature but was too perplexed to actually react.

Under the curious looks of his colleagues he then proceeded to slice into the wrapping and finally pulled out an isolated heating box that smelled deliciously and made his mouth water even before he opened it, startling laugh off the rest of the rooms, which then went on with their doings.

Greg couldn't resist the tempting smell permeating his senses any longer than about half a minute as Romanian food was one of his weaknesses and not that easy to acquire even in a multicultural city like London.

 

With the deliciousness that where tender filled vine leaves, baked mush and roasted meat of some kind Greg would never be able to identify the evening continued much faster than before and when he found himself at a crime scene, investigating a double suicide he was not even all that surprised to get called over to the tape to have a present put in his arms, that opened to a carefully and beautifully detailed metal Christmas tree made of metal and amazing colours, with tiny fairy-lights in it, that probably connected to the cable coming of the bottom of the decoration, next to which he found a small white card.

 

“I hope you liked Dinner,” it read, “Merry Christmas and stay safe. All my heart.”

Lestrade almost blushed and shoved the card as quickly into the pocket of his jacket as possibly aware that everybody on the scene was trying to sneak a peek at the thing and afterwards would gossip about what happened with the whole Yard until everything was unimaginably colourful and decidedly warped.

That wasn't to say that he didn't like the presents, but the delivery could have been a little less public, as it clearly was a private matter.

 

That late morning when he came home to his apartment, exhausted after more than 24 hours of shift, he found a Christmas Rose on his doorstep with a colourful scarf around it and a card attached that read: “Dinner at the usual place?” and Greg smiled.

 

Mycroft sure liked to remind him of their anniversary.

 

 

 

 

Merry Mystrade Holidays and a Sherlock New Year!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is from three years ago, but I still haven't gotten around to betaing it, nor do we have any more episodes for some reason...
> 
> Open the music on your own risk, I hate Christmas music.


End file.
